


Vindictive

by Arkanna



Category: Legacy of Kain
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2017-09-25
Packaged: 2019-01-05 07:42:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12185790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arkanna/pseuds/Arkanna
Summary: Zephon learns the error of his ways.





	Vindictive

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Legacy of Kain or any of its characters.

_Don't,_ Raziel growled silently to himself. _Do not!_ but he knew it was a pointless mantra. The look on Zephon's face did not bode well. There would be repercussions for all of them. From beside him, a frustrated hiss told Raziel Dumah was thinking much the same thing.

“Kaaaiiinnn!”

There it was. The long whiny drawn out word that would doom them all and the audacity! addressing their sire so informally during training.

With an angry snarl, Kain tossed his fledgling across the room.

“Assemble! NOW!!” he barked.

Raziel and his brothers gathered then quickly knelt, heads bowed in respect.

Kain surveyed them a moment before pacing back and forth.

“Rise.”

Soundlessly they stood, weapons held at the ready, nervously wondering what their fate might be.

Raziel watched as Kain paced angrily a few more times before striding to the weapons rack. For one terrible moment he thought his sire might draw the Reaver, but instead he took a long vicious looking glaive.

A single spin, a test of weight and balance, before he turned back towards his fledglings. A wicked snarl twisted his lips into the semblance of a smile.

“Attack me,” he growled swinging the weapon across his body, the curved blade glittering in the torchlight. “Fight as if your very life depends upon it,” his smile broadened, revealing his gleaming fangs, “there will be no mercy.”

 

Hours, or perhaps merely minutes later, Kain strode from the room. There was not a scratch on him, but the training room was in a shambles. His fledglings lay scattered around the floor, neither moving nor breathing, but then that was their natural state.

Turel, however, lay in a very unnatural looking heap, twisted at angles one would assume not possible. A broken spear was still held in Dumah's twitching fingers, a short piece of haft all that remained. Raziel had managed to retain the hilt of his shattered sword. A single strike from Kain and the heavy blade had cracked and broken as if made of glass. Out of desperation, Melchiah and Zephon had attempted to work with Rahab but had only proved a great hindrance and in the end all three had ended up in a pile of destroyed weapons and bloodied bodies.

Raziel groaned, amazed that he was still alive. His eyes opened slowly and settled on the bane of his current existence—Zephon.

“This is all your fault,” he growled narrowing his eyes menacingly. “If you had only remained silent and respectful . . .” he left his sentence dangling, fury rendering him unable to speak further.

“Agreed,” Rahab managed.

Raziel's eyes flicked to to his brother. He did not realize he had spoken aloud.

“What a pity we cannot kill him!” Turel snarled, his joints popping loudly as the bones settled back into their proper positions. Vampire or not, IT HURT!

“No,” Rahab agreed, attempting to pull himself from under both Melchiah and Zephon but something was definitely wrong. He hurt all over and could not pinpoint exactly why he was unable to move properly, at least until Melchiah managed to pull himself together and slowly rise to his knees. The missing part of Dumah's spear was pierced through the meat of Rahab's thigh and impaled partially in the solid stone floor. “But there is always . . . punishment,” he hissed as Melchiah freed him.

Melchiah nodded, giving his brother an equally cold glare.

For all that he had taken a good portion of Kain's ire, Zephon was amazingly quick at extricating himself. He was, however, not quite fast enough as a rather large angry hand grabbed him by the scruff of his neck forcing a squawk of surprise from the fledgling.

“Where do you think you're going?” Dumah growled.

Zephon fought like a crazed animal, desperate with terror at his brothers' furious glares. It was little consolation that they couldn't actually kill him—there were far worse things than death. In the end it was five against one and his fate was sealed.

 

It was quiet, too quiet Kain realized with a slight wince. Usually such calm meant he would eventually be faced with a storm of ridiculous behaviour and then the predictable retaliation by whichever of his fledglings felt insulted enough to turn on his own brother—usually Zephon.

It was the strange sound that caught his attention. An odd muffled huffing mixed with something that sounded a bit like the creaking of new leather. All in all, it sounded distinctly stealthy and Kain assumed that trouble was soon to follow. Lengthening his stride, he determined he would put an end to whatever this was BEFORE it even had a chance to start.

Kain was astonished to find the training room in good order. He had naturally assumed that the previous day's mess would still be in evidence but to his amazement, everything was in its place and the broken weapons lay against a wall awaiting his inspection. That alone was enough to make him stop and stare in surprise but a slight sound caused him to glance towards the ceiling and for a moment he was rendered speechless.

Centuries in the future, he would have recognized the irony of the situation but as it was, all he could do was smirk evilly.

High in the rafters, bound tightly in thick heavy coils of jute rope, was one of his fledglings. Judging by the hair he had no doubt it was Zephon. Kain watched as he struggled causing himself to sway and turn slowly. The young vampire huffed, perhaps in annoyance and struggled again, but this time with a slight whimper.

Hanging upside-down from the rafters, tightly bound, and gagged Kain realized studying his fledgling closely, was no doubt meant to be humiliating, a far more fitting punishment than the one he had personally doled out the day before. The smirk on Kain's face only sharpened when he noticed the only thing covering Zephon's modesty was the coils of rope and idly wondered what the others had done with his clothes and armor. Judging by the slightly puffy look of his face as Zephon slowly revolved, he had most likely been up there since their _training_ exercise the day before.

Their eyes met, Zephon's widening at the appearance of his sire. He struggled again desperately and somehow managed a small breathy whisper.

“Ka . . . Sire,” it sounded almost pleading.

Kain noted the ropes seemed to tighten with every attempt at escape making breathing optional at best. Folding his arms and quirking a brow in question, he carefully schooled his expression.

“Yes?”

Kain waited patiently as Zephon struggled to answer.

After a few more minutes had passed, Kain shrugged and turned on his heel.

“You seem to be busy at the moment. If there is something you wish to discuss, I shall be in my study,” and with that he left, an evil smirk once more gracing his lips. What sounded like a faint whine following him from the room.

Perhaps, if Zephon was still there in a day or two, he would consider releasing him.


End file.
